


The Secret Life of Angels

by zelda_zee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-01
Updated: 2008-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 09:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelda_zee/pseuds/zelda_zee





	The Secret Life of Angels

He feels Uriel’s call like a tug deep inside his body, like someone has wrapped a hand around some vital part of him and _pulled_. Castiel goes to him instantly. He would not even begin to know how to make Uriel wait.

He finds himself seated on the apex of the steep-pitched roof of a church in the town where the Winchesters are staying. Beside him is a large, bald, black man in a dark suit, but what Castiel sees is _Uriel_ , bright and burning, the perfect, fiery sword of God’s will. Castiel knows why Uriel is here, and yet he cannot help feeling joy at this meeting.

“So, is _this_ ,” Castiel gestures to Uriel’s vessel, “an attempt to intimidate me?”

Uriel expression shifts minutely, not a smile, not quite, but for a moment his face looks almost kind. ‘Almost’ because Uriel’s vessel doesn’t give the impression of being a man any more familiar with the concept of kindness than Uriel himself is.

“I don’t need to intimidate you, Castiel," he says. The vessel's voice is deep and quiet. "We both know where we stand.”

Castiel scowls at this reminder of their places in the hierarchy, although it’s no more than he anticipated. Uriel wouldn’t be Uriel if he didn’t pull rank.

Uriel looks down upon the bustling town spread out at their feet. “This man suits my temperament,” he says. “As a vessel, I believe he suits me very well indeed.”

It’s a sunny day, and especially bright up on the roof of the church where they sit. Castiel squints, trying to make this human visage fit with the being he has known for millennia. He has been among humans for months now, but Castiel still isn’t sure if he understands their standards of beauty. He doesn't think that the vessel Uriel inhabits would be considered attractive, but he is beautiful to Castiel because when he looks at him Castiel can only see Uriel's divine light and unyielding strength. There is something about the vessel that radiates power and gravity though, and in that it reminds Castiel very much of the Uriel he knows so well.

“He does suit you,” Castiel agrees. “It's just odd, to see you confined in this way.”

“It is odd to be confined. It has been an eternity since the last time.”

“You get used to it.” Castiel does not want to admit how easy it has been for him to get used to it. He cannot imagine that Uriel would be able to understand.

“He is too small for you,” Uriel muses, his eyes assessing, traveling from Castiel’s feet, in their uncomfortable, dusty shoes to his messy hair. “But then, they all are.”

Castiel looks down at the body of his vessel, the familiar suit and tie and trench coat. He holds his hands out in front of him, studying his palms. “He was a good man. He prayed for God to take away his pain."

“And have you done that?”

“What do you think?” Castiel looks straight into Uriel’s eyes, seeing far beyond what is visible. “He is at peace now.”

Uriel looks away, gazes out over the town. “So you chose a good man and I chose an evil one. That sounds about right.”

Castiel is not surprised that Uriel had not chosen his vessel in answer to a prayer. No one would pray for possession by a being such as Uriel.

“You designated yourself to be his punishment?”

Uriel shrugs. “I am only the _beginning_ of his punishment.”

Uriel turns to him, places his fingers under Castiel’s chin, lifting and turning his face so that Uriel can study him. Uriel feels along Castiel’s jaw, running his fingers back and forth. It’s a tender gesture and Castiel willingly submits to it. He knows Uriel is as curious as he, searching to recognize the creature of light somewhere within this fleshly container. “This one suits you as well as any of them could. Though no human could ever encompass your beauty.”

Castiel feels himself blush, which makes his stomach flutter uneasily. More and more often he is evidencing human reactions. An angel would never blush at such a statement. It isn’t a compliment, for angels are not vain and have no egos and thus no need of flattery. Yet he blushes and a part of him feels… _pleased_ to be told that he is beautiful. To be told that by Uriel.

Of course, Uriel notices. He raises an eyebrow but says nothing. His fingertips play over the stubble on Castiel’s chin, then rest on his mouth, softly tracing the bottom lip before gently pressing his forefinger against the top one, against the indentation between his nose and his mouth.

“Humans say that before a child is born, an angel tells it all the mysteries of the soul,” Uriel says. He strokes that place above Castiel’s lip so softly that the sensation of touch is almost indiscernible, and yet, it’s all that Castiel can feel. “But then he presses his finger right _here_. ‘ _Shhhh_ ’, he says. And so, the secret is safe, but the angel’s touch leaves this mark behind.” Castiel blinks at the strange story but doesn’t move until Uriel's hand drops. His skin is tingling everywhere Uriel has touched him and he doesn’t want it to stop. “Ridiculous fiction. Humans and their need of stories.” Uriel huffs derisively. “As if their puny intellects could comprehend such knowledge. As if He would choose to share it with _them_.”

Castiel sighs, but quietly. He doesn’t want to argue with Uriel. And technically, Uriel is right. God would not share such knowledge with humans. Doing so would only be asking for trouble.

“Our orders…” Castiel hesitates, because he knows this is a touchy subject. Taking orders from a human does not come naturally to any angel of the Presence, let alone to this particular one.

Uriel grimaces. “Orders are orders.” His eyes slide sideways to Castiel. “I don’t like them.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No.”

“You should let me take the lead with Dean,” Castiel says.

“Should I?” Castiel can hear an edge of amusement in Uriel’s tone. Better amusement than anger, Castiel supposes. “You are on a first name basis?”

“He calls me Cas.” Uriel’s bark of laughter isn’t unexpected, but it sounds strange, coming in the vessel’s voice. “We have a relationship,” Castiel explains. “He is starting to trust me.”

Uriel snorts. “Your mud-monkey lacks respect.”

Castiel says nothing. He cannot dispute it, but there is a reason that he was chosen to interact with Dean, and not a being like Uriel. Dean would have been turned to dust many times over by now if he’d been dealing with Uriel.

“We should get to work,” Castiel says. “They will return soon. We should be there.”

“And I am to follow your lead.” Uriel’s voice is uninflected. He has decided to acquiesce then, and Castiel is filled with relief.

He nods. “In this, yes. Until we learn what our final orders are to be.”

Uriel sighs and gets to his feet, balancing easily on the steep slope of the roof. Behind him Castiel can see his wings, spreading wide, blocking out sun and sky, though he knows they would be invisible to anyone else. If Uriel happened to catch the attention of anyone below, they would only see a black man in a suit standing on the church roof.

The tips of Uriel’s wings move in small, circling figure-eights, just enough to keep his balance and to make Castiel’s hair stir in the breeze they create. He stands at Uriel’s side, lets his own wings unfurl, can’t help the little " _Ah!_ " of pleasure he makes as they stretch to their full extent. They brush against Uriel’s, then move inside his, merging and blending, and for a blessed instant the feeling of being cut off and alone in his human body vanishes and instead he senses Uriel’s true being deep inside him, joined in awareness as they are - as all of them are - in heaven. It has been only the blink of an eye in the long eons of Castiel’s existence that he has been on Earth, squeezed and crammed into this vessel, constrained by its skin, and yet –

“It is very difficult to be separate,” Castiel murmurs. He’s surprised that it is hard to talk, that his voice a little hoarse.

“This will be over soon,” Uriel says. “And we will leave this stinking cesspool and go back where we belong.”

Castiel looks at him and he doesn’t have to speak for Uriel to understand him. _If we prevent the breaking of the seals. If we aren’t killed. If we win. If there’s a home to return to._

“They will not win.” Uriel's wings flutter and shift, energy beating into Castiel in waves and with it Uriel gives him strength, shares some of that unshakable certainty. “And I will not let anything happen to you.”

He doesn’t say it, but Castiel can hear it clearly. _I will not let you fall._ He’d protest, but there’s a part of him that fears he may need that help before this war is over.

“It is not your job to protect me, Uriel.”

“No. It’s not." Uriel's hand comes to Castiel’s face, touching his cheek. "But I will anyway.” Uriel gives him the barest of smiles, and steps off the roof.


End file.
